


Residuum

by Mendeia



Category: Mr. Peabody & Sherman (2014)
Genre: A dog and his boy, F/M, Family, Fatherhood, Fix-It, Gen, Not kidding about the awful puns, Post-Canon, Restoring the cultural timeline of history, adoption issues, really awful puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Getting into trouble comes easily to Peabody and his son Sherman. Getting out of it, and cleaning it up, is a little harder. After the WABAC's dramatic tear-and-mend of the fabric of spacetime, there are more than a few things that need to be cleaned up, including some deep misconceptions held by Sherman. Peabody needs to have a talk with his boy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I was posting this, my beta yells, "Your fans did NOT see that coming!" Nope, those of you who follow me probably didn't.
> 
> This was a movie I came upon in March of 2017 and it hit me at just the right time to work. It caught me at a bad moment and gave me a lovely story about family and courage and expressions of love. I think I watched it, eh, 5 times in the same 2 weeks? Something like that.
> 
> So, to no one's surprise, I have an offering this time as well. This will be a story of 3 chapters dedicated to filling in the gaps and tying up the threads of the movie. I know such has been done before, and probably better, but I still needed to do it for myself anyway. And, I'd like to point out, I've got a particular "fix" that I needed to ensure got made which I hadn't seen elsewhere. Thus, here we go.
> 
> Enjoy!

"...And then she said that since I already knew so much about American history, I could do a whole special project on any of the Founding Fathers!"

Sherman's enthusiasm was contagious; Peabody could not restrain the small smile that pulled at his expression.

"Have you chosen your subject yet?" he asked.

"Honestly, I was wondering if Missus Adams counts. I know she's not anybody's 'father' but I don't like how nobody remembers that she was trying to help make our country better, too."

Peabody's smile widened. "I think that is an excellent suggestion, Sherman. While not a signatory on the Declaration of Independence, Abigail Adams was nonetheless a very important figure in our early years as a nation, and among the first to argue for the right of women to vote and own property. I am sure your teacher will be pleased."

Sherman whooped, though that was just as likely to be because of the rather speedy way Peabody took the last turn into the private garage under the Peabody Industries building.

"So, does that mean we can go visit her? She did say we were welcome at any of her dinner parties."

"So she did. We shall certainly visit her, but not today, I'm afraid." Peabody parked the custom-made scooter exactly in its proper place and removed his helmet.

"Oh." Sherman climbed out of the sidecar and hung his own helmet on the hook for it, shouldering his backpack. "Okay."

Peabody knew that tone of voice. Sherman was generally a polite boy and had been taught to be circumspect in his complaining when possible – and especially when not alone in the penthouse with only his father. Sherman's honesty was always welcome in his own home, but Peabody had attempted to instill in his son the good manners to refrain from whining while in public.

That particular "Okay" was more accurately translated from Sherman-speak to "I am surprised and disappointed but I am resigning myself to accept your decision."

Peabody was about to respond when Sherman shuffled ahead of him into their private elevator. "So...does this mean I can never go in the WABAC again?"

Peabody blinked, surprised. He waited until the elevator was in motion on its way to the penthouse before he spoke.

"Sherman, why on earth would you think that?"

Sherman did not even look up. Peabody began to feel even more concerned.

"Because...I broke the space-time continuum. And I made you fly the WABAC out in public, which you said we should never ever do. And I…"

Peabody had heard more than enough.

"Sherman. Stop. And look at me, please." He waited until his son had let out a heavy breath and obeyed. "Is this because we have not used the WABAC since Tuesday?"

"Yes."

"I see. That decision was made for two reasons, Sherman, and two reasons only." Peabody held up a paw. It was awkward for him to count on his front digits as humans did on their fingers, but if he could not have managed something so simple, he could never have learned to type on a human keyboard, either – let alone all that had come after. "First, the WABAC was in desperate need of repair after our adventure, which I am sure you realized."

Sherman nodded, eyes still downcast.

"And second, as this was your first week of school, albeit an interrupted one, I did not wish for you to be overly tired by galavanting across history when you had homework and club meetings and new friends to negotiate. That is _all_."

Hopeful light began to bloom in Sherman's face. "Really, Mister Peabody?"

"Of course." Peabody set a paw on his son's shoulder. "Have you been worrying all week that I intended to punish you for the events of Tuesday night?"

"A little. I mean, I guess so."

"Hmm. Well, as much as you should have told me your feelings, I can understand your hesitation. In fact…"

The elevator popped open to the penthouse.

Peabody chuckled. "Well, let's just say we have other things to discuss as well. But first, I should like you to get a start on your homework before dinner, and then we shall make a trip in the newly-repaired WABAC."

"Okay, Mister Peabody!" Sherman scampered off to his room.

"Do you think you'll require any help with your studies?" Peabody called after him.

Sherman stopped and turned, flashing a smile at his father.

"The only thing I have left is a little spelling and a worksheet on how to tell time!"

Peabody laughed. "I certainly _hope_ you can tell time by now!"

-==OOO==-

The process of cooking was soothing for Peabody – it was an exercise both analytical, akin to a chemistry experiment, but also artistic in presentation as well as creativity. When working on a particularly complex problem, such as negotiating geopolitical trade agreements, he tended to make elaborate meals fit for dignitaries while he untangled the threads of the issues in his mind; the more complicated the dinner, the deeper his thinking. The only way to tell an intentionally-planned grandiose meal from one of Peabody's mental exercises was by the ingredients he chose. Peabody did not make quails when he needed to think – only to impress.

Accordingly, he pulled out a spread of chicken and rice and a mountain of vegetables and let his paws lead the way in crafting a meal from them while considering, as he had said to the principal on Monday, 'all things Sherman-related.'

Mentally, Peabody reviewed the events of the week. While Thursday and Friday had been relatively calm as Sherman resettled into the world of school, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday had pushed the boy to his absolute limits. It was difficult for Peabody even to anticipate which had been the toughest on his son.

How could one quantify Monday's hurts of bullying, violence, and questioning one's humanity by one's peers? How to comprehend the grief and fear of losing his father, be it at Troy or to the forces Miss Grunion had amassed, and that along with being the pivot around which space-time had spun? And how did these measure up against the almost more impossible task of returning to school, to the world, a world that had now seen the WABAC on the news and had watched history unraveling while one's father hung from a dog-catcher's noose?

And yet Sherman had persevered. He had stood up _magnificently_ against overwhelming odds on Tuesday when space-time and a seemingly unconquerable state agency official had almost destroyed everything. He had woken Wednesday eager to return to school, since Peabody had kept him home on Tuesday until he felt issues with the Peterson girl were resolved; he would be a poor father indeed to send Sherman back into a classroom with his tormentor still willing and able to abuse him.

Sherman, Peabody had always known, was a marvel. The boy seemed to have no limits to his enthusiasm, optimism, and curiosity.

However, Peabody's mind latched onto a line from _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_ by Lord Byron: _What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?_

" _She called me a dog."_

" _You just didn't think I could handle it!"_

" _I'm the one who made all the mistakes."_

" _The only mistake Mr. Peabody ever made... was me."_

" _I've never been there before, so it's probably not as messed up."_

And all that before his own unforgivable lapse: _"You're just a very bad boy!"_

What deep wounds indeed? And these were only the ones Peabody knew lay festering in the heart of his son. What more grew there, poisoning the boy? What other shadows and doubts haunted him?

Peabody was resolved to find out. And, like anything else that threatened the safety and happiness of his boy, he would trounce them.

Perhaps he should have addressed these matters sooner. Perhaps even a few days was too many to wait and these insidious falsehoods had taken root where Peabody might not be able to identify and eliminate them. Perhaps Sherman's mental landscape had already been irreparably changed, altered as the land is furrowed by an unfeeling plow.

But, given the night's work ahead of them, he believed he had made the correct decision.

Surely it would be easier on Sherman if the last threats were handled and then the repair work begun. Tonight would be difficult as well, but once it was done, healing could begin without any future doubt.

Peabody turned off the stove, absently serving up whatever he had created during his musings. It smelled delectable and was, as always, a perfect balance of nutrition.

Nothing less for the son he loved more than anything in any timeline in the world.

"Sherman! Dinner!"

-==OOO==-

"So, where and when are we going tonight, Mister Peabody?" Sherman asked, diving into his usual seat.

Peabody gave an approving nod at the more correct phrasing of the question than Sherman's usual specification of only geography. "We have several brief stops to make throughout time, I'm afraid. While most of the results of Tuesday's incident will resolve themselves, there are a few we cannot leave untouched."

"Like what?"

"Well, I have no doubt that foam fingers will be very hard to reproduce in Ancient Egypt, but we do not want to leave them there to be found in King Tut's tomb by future archaeologists, either."

"Tut, huh?" Sherman's face fell slightly. " _Great_."

"If it offers you any consolation, I believe he will be as displeased to see you as you are to see him," Peabody said. "Additionally, we must remind our old friend Leonardo not to reproduce the styles of painting he witnessed in our New York City. The Renaissance is simply not ready for pop art."

Sherman blinked, then frowned. "How many different things do we need to clean up, Mister Peabody? There were a _lot_ of people who fell through the space-time rip." He gripped the arms of his seat. "Do we have to go see _all_ of them?"

"No, Sherman." Peabody turned to the WABAC controls. "In the process of testing my repairs, I made several excursions to the past already while you were at school. Only three major interventions remain before we can close the books on Tuesday's events."

"Oh. Okay." Then, "Wait. Three? King Tut and Mister Da Vinci are only two."

Peabody made himself hold still and keep his voice neutral. "Yes. But don't worry about the third just yet. Let's take care of Egypt and Florence first."

"Okay, Mister Peabody."

The simple trust in Sherman's voice, his unquestioning loyalty, would have stolen any further words from Peabody's very throat. He could only give his boy a nod and activate the WABAC.

And hope that this trust would not be misplaced.

-==OOO==-

"Here, Mister Peabody! That's the last bunch!"

Peabody took the handful of foam fingers and the balled-up Lady Liberty costume from the boy and sent the pile into the vacuum tubes. "Good work, Sherman."

Sherman grimaced and ran an arm across his forehead to wipe some of the sweat away.

"Ugh! This is probably my least favorite time we've _ever_ visited."

Peabody gave a thoughtful hum. "And not just because Ay's guards are getting a little too good at spear-throwing in our general direction?"

Sherman shrugged. "I just don't get whatever Penny saw in that guy!"

"Sherman, you must look beyond the styles and fashions of the time. It does you a disservice to be so closed-minded about King Tut's choice of attire."

"It's not that." Sherman threw himself into his seat with a groan. "He's just...didn't you see him? He had girls _all over_ him! Girls _way_ older than him!"

"Hmm. You still sound jealous."

"Yeah, right."

"Well." Peabody took his place and activated the WABAC again. "Perhaps the attraction to power and influence, to say nothing of being regarded as a living god, is not the only reason members of the female gender are so drawn to him. Perhaps it's his _pharaohmones_."

Sherman blinked. Giggled. Then sighed. "I don't get it. And I don't really care, either."

Peabody chuckled and cast them into the streams of time once more.

-==OOO==-

"Well, at least Leonardo was reasonable," Peabody said. "Though I do not envy him the discussion he must have with Miss Mona Lisa before she becomes the first wildstyle artist in the world. Graffiti is as old as ink, but street murals of this time ought to look a little less…"

"Wild?" Sherman asked.

"Yes, indeed." Peabody pulled a tissue from one of the cabinets and wiped at some of the residual color stuck to his white paws. "Though it seems a shame to make Leo destroy some of those works. At least we got to him before he could begin displaying or distributing them."

Sherman took a tissue of his own to scrub some spray paint off his thumb. "That would really change history, wouldn't it, Mister Peabody?"

"Indeed." Peabody flashed a smirk. "Leonardo da Vinci should know better. He'll just have to leave the _prints_ to Machiavelli."

Sherman laughed and followed his father to their seats. But once he was in place, he frowned. "I don't get it."

"Never mind, Sherman." Peabody piloted the WABAC into the air and in moments they were back in the Peabody Industries tower. "We're not staying," he said before his son could even ask. "We just need a bit of a recharge before we make one last trip tonight."

"Right. You said before that we had three places to go. So, where are we going, Mister Peabody? Uh, I mean when?"

"Good boy." Peabody set the WABAC to charging mode and swiveled his seat to face his son. Sherman's bright, cheerful eyes fell as they saw Peabody's serious expression.

"Sherman, I'm afraid we have to do something neither of us will particularly enjoy. It could even be…" He considered his words carefully. "It could even be troublesome. Not dangerous, for no ill will come of it. I'll see to that. But there could be...temporary discomfort."

"O-kay," Sherman said slowly.

"It would be easier not to do this at all," Peabody said. "It would be easier for both of us to leave this last errand be rather than face it. But, no matter how difficult, we must always make the correct moral and ethical choice. I have tried to teach you this your whole life."

Sherman blinked. "Well. Yeah." He adjusted his glasses. "There was something Miss Angelou said about that...something about doing the right thing…"

Peabody could have filled in the quote himself, but he waited; his son had a strong memory for the precise words given to him by his heroes. After only a few seconds of consideration, Sherman grinned.

"She told me that, 'You don't have to think about doing the right thing. If you're _for_ the right thing, then you do it without thinking.' So...uh...why are we thinking about doing something right, Mister Peabody?"

"Because this is to be a prime lesson in the hardships that can be associated with acting honorably, even against one's best interest." Peabody reached between them and set a paw on Sherman's knee. "I would leave you here and do it myself, but I believe you deserve to be with me. You deserve this proof that I have every faith in what you can handle."

Sherman paled slightly.

Peabody could see the boy making guesses and drawing conclusions in his head; he gave a nod.

"Indeed. We must return to Ancient Greece to retrieve Miss Grunion and bring her back to the present."

Sherman recoiled, actually pushing his chair back and away. "But, Mister Peabody! She'll try and take me away again!"

"The operative word being 'try,' Sherman." Peabody let his son take the space he needed, but he did not break eye-contact. "As dire as our circumstances seemed on Tuesday, the immediate danger was to the space-time continuum, not to myself."

Sherman was shaking his head back and forth, tugging on his fingers with frantic energy.

"Sherman." He pitched his voice low and calm. "At the very worst, the authorities would have attempted to incarcerate me while preparing their judgement against me. I have every confidence that I would win any legal battle that ensued, but, if for some reason I was prevented, I _assure_ you they would not have been able to contain me for long."

Sherman hiccuped, clearly fighting the urge to cry. Peabody's heart thumped in his chest.

"Listen to me. _Listen_ , Sherman." He still did not touch the boy, but he extended both paws in invitation. "Even if all my faith in the governmental systems of the land proved false, there is no kennel or prison that would keep me from getting back to you. As there is none now. No matter _what_ Miss Grunion does upon returning here, she will _not_ nullify your adoption, nor cause any permanent harm to me."

Sherman edged his chair closer again. "She won't?"

"No, Sherman." Peabody continued to hold his paws out. "Though there is a probability she will remove you from my custody temporarily." It took every bit of self-discipline for Peabody not to growl at the threat to his boy, his son. "But, I promise you, _it would be temporary_. Just long enough for me to prove our case."

"And...and then I can come home?"

Peabody's throat almost closed at the tiny, fearful sound in those words. Sherman had faced executioners and carnivorous dinosaurs and a vicious war-zone without even half as much terror as he showed now.

"And then I will bring you home again. Yes, Sherman."

Sherman put a trembling hand out and Peabody caught it between both of his paws.

"And...we really have to go get her? Even though…"

"Yes. We do. While Agamemnon was employing an entirely typical and even accepted method of, ahem, _acquiring_ a mate for his time, we cannot allow him to keep her against her will. No matter her crimes against us, we must act to ensure her safety."

Though it galled him, it _sickened_ him to let that woman within a thousand years of Sherman again. She had frightened him. She had threatened him. She had _hurt_ him.

And she very likely would do it again.

"She may...Sherman, Miss Grunion is probably very angry with us. With me. She may say things in your hearing that I would never wish you to hear. She will almost certainly continue to demean and insult me. I fear both of our feelings will be rather trampled by the time we return home tonight."

Sherman nodded, misery in every inch of his face.

"But we _will_ do the right thing, Sherman. Together. And no matter what it brings us, we will face it."

Sherman tightened his grip on his father's paws. "Okay, Mister Peabody." He drew in a long, shaky breath. Then he lifted his head and swallowed. "I'm ready."

Peabody almost stared at his boy. Seven and a half years old and already Sherman possessed a courage and poise and fortitude they had only seen in the noblest of figures from world history.

He tugged on the hand he held until he could pull Sherman into a brief hug.

"You are _extraordinary_ , Sherman. Never forget that."

Sherman shivered just once, but then he drew back and managed a half-smile.

"You're pretty fantastic too, Mister Peabody."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was worth referencing the amount of sanitizing Peabody must do for Sherman. Founding Fathers owning slaves? Post-victory pillage of sacked city-states? Yeah, there's quite a bit Peabody is waiting until Sherman is older to explain.
> 
> Final chapter up next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

Both dog and boy were largely composed by the time the WABAC popped out into the starry sky over the fallen city of Troy.

"Now, Sherman, I want you to stay very, _very_ close to me at all times," Peabody said. "This is an extremely dangerous situation. There will be periodic outbreaks of fighting and many people are being taken as slaves. I do _not_ want you to be one of them."

"Okay, Mister Peabody."

"Do you still have your whistle?"

Sherman held it up. "Yep!"

"Good. If we do get separated, I want you to blow it the _instant_ you realize you can't find me. Don't even waste time searching. Understood?"

"Yes, Mister Peabody."

Peabody set the WABAC down close to where it had landed the last time - thus making it easier for Sherman to find in an emergency - and peered at his son.

"You don't have to come with me if you would rather remain here. You'll have more than enough time to prove your superior mettle when Miss Grunion rejoins us in the WABAC for the ride home."

But Sherman shook his head. "That's okay. I…" He made an abortive motion as if to hold Peabody's paw again. Took a deep breath. "I want to stay with you."

What else could Peabody say to that? "Very well."

The WABAC provided appropriate clothes, Peabody this time taking care to dress Sherman as a regular boy and not in the uniform of any of the soldiers. Though the armor might have been helpful should danger occur, Peabody concluded that Sherman was more likely to avoid being attacked in the first place if he did not look like a threat. Not that Sherman had looked like much of a threat in the battle attire either. He was altogether too kind and gentle of a boy.

Peabody hoped that no matter how much Sherman grew and changed in years to come, that essence would always remain. The world needed more people like Sherman in every era.

As the pair left the WABAC and started the hike up to the Greek encampment around the destroyed walls of Troy, Sherman gulped, looking over his shoulder at the cliff where the ruined Trojan Horse had taken its great fall.

"I know it's upsetting," Peabody said, "but try not to dwell on it. We can talk about that later, too, if you wish."

"Sure. I mean, okay."

Peabody patted Sherman's shoulder. "And have more faith in me next time, Sherman. Had you waited even a few more minutes, you could have saved me a rather long and arduous climb."

"Sorry, Mister Peabody. When I yelled and you didn't answer...I thought..."

"I know what you thought." Peabody gave him a smile. "And, given the situation, you made the correct decision in returning home for me to help you. But, should we ever be separated in such a manner again, please give me at least an hour before you take off with the WABAC."

"Okay."

Peabody sighed, then put an arm around Sherman's shoulders, bringing their heads together. "There won't be a next time, Sherman. I promise not to fall over any cliffs riding in any more Trojan Horses."

That won him a huff of laughter. "Deal." Sherman relaxed under his father's touch. "So...what was supposed to happen to Mister Agamemnon after the battle, anyway?"

"Well, I'm afraid there's not much of a happy story to be had when it comes to the aftermath of the Battle of Troy, at least according to Homer and Aeschylus. Most sources suggest that Agamemnon returned home successfully, only to meet a rather unfortunate end at the hands of his wife and her, uh, friend."

"He's married?" Sherman asked, surprised. "Then why did he take Miss Grunion?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." Peabody was dreading the day that he would have to stop censoring all the questions his son had asked over the years about various famous people and events. Some people, he knew, would lose Sherman's respect forever once he learned all the details Peabody had avoided thus far. "Let's just say he wanted a friend of his own."

"Oh. Okay." He considered. "She's not really very nice, though."

Peabody chuckled. "Neither is Agamemnon. I can understand the appeal. Like calls to like, after all."

Sherman's eyes widened. "Like you and me, Mister Peabody?"

Peabody's heart warmed. "Yes, Sherman. Exactly like you and me." He took a few quick steps to get out in front of the boy. "Now, let us find our friend Agamemnon and retrieve Miss Grunion before she has anything more than an inconvenience to blame us for. By my calculations, she has only been here a matter of seconds. I just hope Agamemnon is behaving himself."

Together, the pair managed to get through the first few rows of tents before they were stopped by the first soldier.

"Who goes there?" demanded the very large, heavily armed Greek man.

"Greetings. Peabody here. I was hoping to speak to my friend, King Agamemnon. Would you happen to know where we might find him?"

The soldier looked doubtfully at Peabody, but then his gaze shifted. "Shermanos! You are well!"

"Uh, yeah. Hi!" Sherman waved.

"When we did not see you after the battle, we feared you had failed your test of manhood."

"Well, I might have," Sherman said. "But my dad saved me."

The soldier looked at Peabody again. "Ah! So you are the one who snuck into our horse in a horse of your own. Very tricky. Odysseus is still angry that he was bested by you."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, I'm sure you can understand that we would like to see King Agamemnon and thank him for his assistance in these matters." Peabody didn't like the way the soldier was looking at Sherman. He seemed to be a half-second away from scooping the boy up and trotting off with him to some victory celebration or other.

Considering exactly _how_ the invading army at Troy celebrated their victory, Peabody would rather Sherman stay as far away from all that as possible.

"Of course. King Agamemnon was last seen investigating what became of our horse. I believe he wished to see if it could be repaired to stand as a testament to his victory."

"Did he say where he was going afterwards?" Peabody asked. Given that Agamemnon had appeared in the future with a company of Greek soldiers alongside said half-ruined horse, this confirmed the timing of the space-time rip's influence here.

"To the great hall of Troy. I think he's commissioning a statue of himself upon Hector's throne."

"Ah. Thank you for your assistance." Peabody began steering Sherman away.

The soldier yelled after him, "Shermanos! As you are now truly a man, come! Come and be initiated into all that a man deserves when he defeats his enemy!"

"No, thank you!" Sherman called back. "Maybe later."

"Definitely not later," Peabody said under his breath.

They encountered several more guards and soldiers as they headed deeper into the ruined city, but now that Peabody knew where they had to go, it was far easier to simply greet them and continue on without providing any opportunities for the well-meaning (and not-so-well-meaning) among them to 'initiate Sherman into manhood.'

Finally reaching the great hall of Troy, the doors smashed open and burned, Peabody paused.

"Now, Sherman, stay behind me and cover your ears. Keep your eyes to the floor. I will let you know if it is safe for you to look up."

"How come?"

"You're just going to have to trust me."

Sherman thought about some of the spots Peabody had fastidiously avoided, and a few times he had seen a smear of something red before his attention was redirected, and he nodded. He clapped his hands over his ears and fixed his gaze on his father's tail.

"Ready."

Peabody tugged at Sherman's toga to get him moving and they entered the hall to the sound of flesh striking flesh and then a multitude of cheers.

Peabody sped forward, trusting Sherman to stay with him. A knot of Greek warriors, some of whom still carried slices of pizza, were crowded at the far end of the once-great chamber. Peabody navigated through stocky bodies and long legs with horror in his heart.

To find Agamemnon blinking and rubbing his jaw while Miss Grunion glared murderously at him.

"How _dare_ you! Where are we? What happened?"

Peabody tapped Sherman on the shoulder, indicating the boy could look up. If circumstances had been different, if events had unfolded with the barbary Peabody knew was going on with other women taken as slaves by the men of Greece, he would have turned right around and made his son wait in the WABAC while he extricated Miss Grunion. But Miss Grunion and Agamemnon and the others were clearly only recently arrived, and nothing untoward had yet occurred.

Peabody might rather have let Sherman avoid the ugliness sure to follow as well, but Sherman had the right to be here; this was his life they were fighting over. If Miss Grunion was going to make her threats, he had earned the right to face her.

Peabody cleared his throat. "Please forgive this inconvenience. I'm afraid our friend here was a little...overzealous. You see, in this era, it is a fairly normal practice to - "

Miss Grunion rounded on Peabody with fire and fury in her eyes. "You! This is _your_ fault, you _mutt_!"

"No, it wasn't!" Sherman piped up, angry and scared all at once.

"And _you_ are going to get a proper lesson in manners, Sherman!" she shot back. "I only hope it's not too late to repair the damage done to you by that _dog_."

Miss Grunion began to advance on them. There was no force on Earth strong enough to keep Peabody from wrapping one of Sherman's hands in his paw and shifting his son behind him, edging away from her.

"Now, I realize we have some things to resolve, but first we must return to our correct time and location," he said.

"Not happening!" Agamemnon strode over and scooped Miss Grunion up in his arms again. "I caught her! She's mine!"

Miss Grunion promptly kicked him soundly in the kneecap and he buckled, releasing her with a groan.

"Wow. What a creature."

Miss Grunion glared at the other warriors, all of whom backed up slowly into a much wider circle, leaving space around her, Agamemnon, and Peabody and Sherman.

"You see, Miss Grunion, this is a very complex situation," Peabody said, still shifting sideways and keeping himself between her and Sherman. "I believe we would be best served to resolve our interpersonal differences in more modern surroundings."

"Interpersonal?" She gave a cruel smile. "That assumes that you are a person and not a _mongrel_."

"He's not!" Sherman cried out.

Peabody squeezed Sherman's hand and gave a slight shake of the head. "Thank you, but there's no need to defend my honor at this moment."

"Sure there is," Sherman said quietly. "It's my fault we're in this mess in the first place."

"We'll talk about that later."

"I highly doubt that," Miss Grunion said. "When I report everything that's happened tonight to the proper authorities, you won't even be granted visitation rights before you're locked away in the pound for good!" She folded her hands before her and affected a smug smile.

Sherman gasped. But then he stuck his chin out boldly. "Not a very nice thing to say to the people who can take you home again! We could have just left you here!"

"You still could!" Agamemnon put in, a bit too eagerly.

"Quiet, you!" Then Miss Grunion narrowed her eyes at Sherman. "I have warned you once. You will start behaving like a proper, _normal_ little boy and not like the freak who has had too much influence over you for too long - or you will be punished."

Peabody went utterly still. His ears folded back and his tail went out straight.

"Do _not_ threaten my son. _Ever_."

"That boy could _never_ be your son!"

Peabody began to growl low in his chest. There was every possibility he would lunge at her as he had back in the penthouse, so lost in his rage was he - until Sherman pulled out of his grasp and darted around him, blocking his father and holding out both arms protectively while he faced the woman who threatened them both.

"I will _always_ be his son!" Sherman said. And there was no waver in his voice now, no fear. "No matter what happens, no matter where you take me!"

"Yes, yes, you said so before. You're a _dog_ , too." Miss Grunion's voice dripped with disgust.

"And I always will be!" Sherman shot back. "My name is Sherman Hector Peabody and even if you could change it - "

"Which you _won't_ ," Peabody put in from behind him with a tone full of menace.

" - Even _if_ you could, you can't change _me_! You can't change who I am!"

"Well said, Brother Shermanos!" Agamemnon yelled.

Miss Grunion moved closer, leaning down to Sherman's level. "I look forward to the challenge. I would like nothing more than to prove you utterly wrong." She smiled an ugly, dark smile. "Let me assure you, if you test me on this, you _will_ regret it."

Peabody longed to pull Sherman back, to protect him once more. But his son stood firm, guarding _him_ , protecting _him_ from Miss Grunion.

"And _I_ assure _you_ ," Sherman said, meeting her glare for glare, "that I will _never_ stop fighting you, no matter what it takes or what you do to try to scare me. Not if it means I get to stay with my dad."

The pride in the dog's chest burned so bright, it could have fueled the WABAC a thousand times over.

"So...let me get this straight." Agamemnon wandered closer, though he stayed out of range of Miss Grunion's fists and feet. "The Grunion," he looked wistfully at her, "wishes to remove Shermanos from his father. Shermanos does not want to be removed."

He paused, stroking his chin.

"That seems very familiar somehow."

"It is rather our own personal Trojan War," Peabody said quietly. "Though I am very concerned about which side you associate with myself."

Sherman looked over his shoulder. "Does that make me Helen?"

"I'm afraid so."

Sherman groaned.

Agamemnon grinned. "But we know how to win this kind of battle! We fight!"

Peabody grabbed Sherman's elbow and swiftly reversed their positions, tucking his boy tight to his back. But when he spoke, his voice was calm and even. "I believe we are somewhat outnumbered. A martial solution to this situation would hardly be fair."

"What about single combat?" Agamemnon asked. "It _is_ my turn. Odysseus and Achilles had all the fun the last time!"

Miss Grunion glared at the nearest soldier. "What exactly is he suggesting?"

The Greek soldier gave her an awkward salute. "That you and Peabody fight each other and the victor will claim ownership over Shermanos."

She looked down her nose at Peabody. "I have no issue kicking a _bad dog_ , but I'm not going to give you grounds to plead a defense for yourself against me - _if_ you ever even see a court of law again."

Peabody huffed but said nothing.

Miss Grunion leered at Sherman. "Do you really think the court won't do _exactly_ what we both know they will? They'll put him down like the dog he is. I only hope I can be there to watch it happen."

Sherman's expression cracked and he let out a tiny, involuntary sound of distress.

Miss Grunion looked back at the soldier. "It doesn't matter to me if he is humiliated here as well. I just want him gone and that child in a _real_ home. But I am not fighting that dog. It could weaken my case against him."

"Oh, but you would threaten a child, would you?" Peabody shot back. "It would give me no pleasure to battle with you anyway."

That was a terrible lie; at the moment, he would have happily pounded her into _dust_. His blood was singing with protectiveness for his child, with the danger in the air to the only thing he truly loved, and all his canine posturing instincts were rattling in his head like so many clanking gears.

Peabody would later blame the heat of the moment for what he said next.

"There is no time or place in which you could ever defeat me and take Sherman away."

"Aha!" Agamemnon raised a fist with triumph. "So you accept the Grunion's challenge! Let us have combat to settle this matter once and for all!"

The soldiers roared in approval.

Miss Grunion stamped her foot. "Do you louts even use your brains? I am _not_ fighting that _dog_!"

"Oh, beautiful Grunion." Agamemnon bowed before her. "Please, let me be your sword in this combat. I shall defeat Mister Peabody and win you ownership of Shermanos. And in return, I would ask that you take me as husband."

Miss Grunion stared at him, frowning. "Take you as _what_?"

"Spoiler alert," Peabody said, not at all sorry about the malicious glee in his smile. "He's already married."

Miss Grunion promptly slapped Agamemnon across the face.

"Ooh." He sighed with bliss and rubbed at the mark on his cheek from her hand. Then he shrugged. "It wasn't really my idea in the first place. My old man set it up. Between the two of them, I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up dead in the bathtub one of these days. At least then he'd be able to pick a different king."

Peabody raised an eyebrow in Sherman's direction and gave him a meaningful look. Sherman gulped, understanding.

"However." Agamemnon turned back to Miss Grunion. "If I could run away with you and live out my days worshiping the ground you walk on, I would be the happiest man in Greece. Please. Let me prove my devotion. I will _destroy_ Mister Peabody. And Shermanos can be your slave."

"I can _what_ now?" Sherman asked, huddling closer to his father.

"It's all right," Peabody said. "It's not going to come to that."

Miss Grunion looked down at the dog protecting his son and then turned a sinister smile on Agamemnon.

"Given that we are outside my jurisdiction, I suppose it makes sense to abide by the laws that are in force here. I would be honored if you would help me in my quest."

She gestured back at Peabody.

"Finish him, soldier-boy, and we'll talk about worshipping later."

"Mister Peabody?" Sherman asked.

Peabody turned to his son and held his shoulders in paws that did not quite shake.

"It's going to be all right, Sherman. You must trust me. This isn't what I intended, but it may work in our favor."

Sherman eyed Agamemnon fawning over Miss Grunion. "But...Mister Peabody…"

"I know. King Agamemnon was legendary in his prowess on the battlefield." Peabody put a paw on Sherman's head and pushed his hair back in an affectionate pat. "But I am your father. And you know I'm no slouch when it comes to defending myself."

"I know, but…"

"Trust me, Sherman."

Peabody turned to face Agamemnon, only to feel a pair of thin arms encircle him from behind.

"I'm so sorry," Sherman whimpered into his shoulder. "This is all my fault. You were right. I really am a bad boy."

Peabody's heart stuttered at that, ice running into his veins.

"No, Sherman," he said, making his voice as warm as he could. "You aren't. I was wrong. You are the very best boy a dog could ever have."

He extricated himself and looked back to see Sherman's eyes welling with tears.

"Now. Stay back and do not interfere. I don't want you to get hurt."

Sherman sniffled. "Okay, Mister Peabody."

"And when I am finished here, we will have that talk."

"Not when you're lying on the ground in a pile of broken bones!" Agamemnon yelled. Then he gave a half-smile. "No offense."

Peabody faced his opponent and shook his head.

"None taken. However, I shall not permit you to defeat me, Agamemnon. If you wish to live a life with Miss Grunion over there, I admit I don't really care."

His eyes narrowed.

"But my son is involved. _My son_. And I will protect him from you and everything that could hurt him until there is no breath left in my body."

Miss Grunion snorted. "We'll see about that."

"Yes." Peabody met her eyes and his resolve hardened to impossible tensile strengths. "We _will_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter – for this one, anyway. I haven't written off continuing to do more in the MP&S series, but for now, this is all I have. Thank you so much, everyone, for your kind welcome to this fandom. I had a lot of fun playing in this sandbox. Maybe I'll be back again.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Before we begin, I would like to clarify the rules of this engagement," Peabody said. "First, I assume this is a battle to defeat, not death. Correct?"

"Sure." Agamemnon shrugged. "But if I accidentally kill you, no hard feelings. Right?"

Sherman's low cry was lost under Miss Grunion's chuckle.

"Second." Peabody had to ignore them both for now. "No one lays a hand on Sherman until we are through. Including Miss Grunion." _Especially_ Miss Grunion.

"That's fine. Odysseus? Watch him for us, will ya?"

Odysseus moved to Sherman's side and planted himself between the boy and where Miss Grunion stood. "Yes, sir!"

Peabody glanced at Odysseus just long enough to conclude that Sherman would be safe with him. "Third. The exact terms of victory."

"If soldier-boy wins," Miss Grunion said, stepping back into the circle of soldiers, "then Sherman comes with me. And you – "

"I'm well aware of what you have planned for me," Peabody said. "But if I defeat Agamemnon, you will retract your investigation. You will cease any and all attempts to remove Sherman from my custody. Forever."

"And you'll marry me!" Agamemnon added, grinning at her.

Miss Grunion frowned. "I will _consider_ allowing you to _appreciate my company_."

Agamemnon sighed. "It was worth a try." He looked back at Peabody. "Anything else?"

"No."

Of course, Peabody had at least four contingency plans should he fail in combat against the Grecian king. He had deliberately not agreed to cease his own attempts to protect and keep Sherman, after all. If he happened to fail at this exercise, he would still bring to bear all the weight he could muster from his economic, political, and scientific influence to ensure that the issue of Sherman's status was ruled in his favor.

And if even that failed, well, he _was_ a genius. With a time machine. The options were literally endless.

But he would not fail. Not when Sherman's brown eyes were so wide and scared behind his glasses smudged from tears. Not when that woman who had threatened his boy, his _son_ , stood sneering at him over Odysseus's head. Sherman was nothing more than a prize to her, a living proof of her superiority. She cared nothing for his welfare – only her own success and power.

If Miss Grunion had not been bigoted, if she had genuinely seemed to be concerned for Sherman's welfare, Peabody might not have hated her – though he would have fought her just as strongly. But he did hate her as he had rarely hated any human in any era. Few were those who ever hurt Sherman, either physically or emotionally. Miss Grunion had done both.

He _would not_ fail.

Agamemnon grinned. "Well, let's get this party started! Ajax, give Mister Peabody your sword!"

Peabody snagged the bronze xiphos out of the air, lobbed expertly by Ajax, and shifted his grip. It was well-balanced, far better than the one he'd picked up in the invasion of Troy with which to defend Sherman.

As he would defend him again.

"For the Grunion!" Agamemnon bellowed. And he charged.

Peabody met his strike, noting as usual how his short stature forced Agamemnon badly off balance. He pushed back and slipped sideways. Agamemnon's blade scraped the hall's floor as he whirled to keep his feet.

Equations and calculations flashed through Peabody's mind too quickly for him to bother to track. Force, angles, probabilities, he juggled them almost subconsciously, like a computer running in the background. For now he was focused on the physical motion of the fight, but at a critical moment he would need all the scientific advantage he could get, and it would be ready.

Peabody used Agamemnon's turn to close the distance between them, planting himself almost at the warrior's feet. He jabbed, slicing through one of Agamemnon's sandals, and darted away before his much larger opponent could strike again.

Agamemnon stumbled, his feet caught in cord and leather from the partially-disassembled shoe whose ties dangled around his ankle.

"A good trick!" Agamemnon did not waste time to remove what was left of his sandals, facing Peabody once more.

"Thank you."

"But you will not defeat me! I will honor the Grunion!"

Agamemnon charged again.

"Mister Peabody!"

Sherman's high voice was a terrible mix of fear and unshed tears and Peabody hated it. A week prior, Sherman had laughed, reciting fencing terms while his father expertly dueled with Robespierre. How much had changed.

And yet…

"Sherman!" Peabody called, dodging to the side of Agamemnon. "I need you to do me a favor!"

"No helping!" Miss Grunion shouted.

Sherman ignored her and bounced on the balls of his feet. "What can I do?"

"I need you to start reciting the Periodic Table. Ready? Go!"

Sherman could not possibly guess why that might be useful, but he trusted his father.

"Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron!"

Peabody used the distraction to get around behind Agamemnon and lunge at his vulnerable legs. Agamenon kicked out, but not before another piece of his sandals fell loosely around his feet.

"Good boy! Keep going!"

"Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon!"

"Speaking of Neon!" Peabody skidded under Agamemnon and grabbed one of the cut laces, catching it around the larger man's knee and yanking on it. Agamemnon leaned down to swat at him, overbalancing.

"Hold still, tiny father of Shermanos!"

Peabody permitted himself a smile. Sherman's upraised voice was lighter now, and he could tell that his son was beginning to feel like this was a normal sort of adventure and not so frightening.

"Sodium, Aluminum!"

And he was finally distracted enough and excited enough to forget the basics, too.

"Not quite!"

"Oh, right! Magnesium!"

"Good boy!" Peabody adjusted his grip on the sword and spared one instant to meet Agamemnon's confused eyes. "I think it's about time we end this."

"Works for me!"

Agamemnon charged a third time. Peabody ducked the swing and darted between his legs, making one more critical cut to Agamemnon's sandals.

"Aluminum, Phosphorus!"

"That's enough, Sherman!" Peabody called. He pushed his full weight into Agamemnon's hip, and the shredded sandal ties tangled just as he had calculated. With a distinctly un-warrior-like yelp, Agamemnon fell to the ground in a solid face-plant.

Peabody perched beside the Grecian king's exposed throat.

"I believe we are done here. After all, I wouldn't want you to Sulfur overly much."

Sherman laughed. "I got that one!"

"And I," Peabody strode across the circle and faced Miss Grunion, "have gotten my victory. You will leave Sherman and me alone from now on." It was a little over-dramatic, but it felt good to point the xiphos at her. "As we agreed."

Miss Grunion's face was flushed with anger and she growled wordlessly at him.

"Mister Peabody!" Sherman darted up, slipping into his place at his father's side. "You did it!"

"Of _course_ I did." Peabody smiled at his son, but never took his full attention from Miss Grunion. "And you did very well, also."

Sherman's face was free of tears and the fragility in his eyes had been replaced with his usual delight at an adventure they shared through time and space.

"I forgot Magnesium, though."

"Shall we go visit Professor Mendeleev for a refresher?" It felt so normal now, just an average day amidst the perils of time travel, and finally Sherman was smiling like the self neither of them had truly seen since Sherman's first day at school.

"Sure!"

"Excellent. Now, if everything is settled," he turned back to Miss Grunion, "it is time for us to return you to your proper time."

"No!" Agamemnon barreled forward. "The Grunion is mine!"

Peabody shifted to face him, sword still out, without ever turning his back on Miss Grunion. "If Miss Grunion decides she would like to remain with you, she must be permitted to close up her life in our time first. She agreed to terminate the investigation into Sherman and I. Her disappearance will only complicate matters for us, not resolve them."

He looked at her. "We _do_ have a deal, right?"

Before she could answer, Agamemnon dropped to a knee before her.

"Forgive me, Grunion. I have failed you." He held up his sword and put the hilt into her hands. "To atone for my dishonor, I give you my life. You may take it as you see fit."

Miss Grunion's normal anger shifted into a confused version. "I'm not going to kill you!"

"You were gonna kill Mister Peabody," Sherman grumbled. Peabody shushed him.

"Then permit me to redeem myself in some other way. I...I will give you a kingdom. Uh, not mine – my dad's got that pretty much locked up. But I'll get another one! Or, uh, how about your own island? There's lots of them in the sea and I would happily make one yours by the strength of my arm and the love in my heart."

Miss Grunion actually looked to Peabody and raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Agamemnon doesn't have a whole lot of future left if he goes home," he said. "And he's one of the finest warriors in all of Greece. You could do worse."

"I'll think about it," she said. She swallowed. "But...get me that island. And we'll talk."

Peabody nudged his son. "That, Sherman, is a classic example of Peripheral, Cutaneous Vasodilation, also known as blushing."

Miss Grunion glared at him. "I am _not_ blushing."

"And _that_ would be an example of erythrophobia, literally the fear of blushing."

"How dare you!" Her face grew even redder.

Sherman looked between his father, Miss Grunion, and Agamemnon. Then he stepped forward.

"Miss Grunion?"

Her attention swung to him like a snake's head pivoting to prey. "What do you want, Sherman?"

Peabody quelled the instinct to interpose himself again. Sherman had chosen to do whatever he was doing; Peabody could only trust him. Sherman's hesitation this time was normal enough for when he spoke to unfamiliar, antagonistic adults, and Peabody did not detect the same frantic energy from before, though there was no denying that Sherman was still more than a little nervous facing her.

"I know...you were probably doing what you thought was right."

Peabody thought that was assuming a lot more good character of the woman than he'd seen so far, but he didn't say so.

"And...I know I started it all by biting Penny. Which I'm really, really sorry for."

"As you should be." She scowled at him.

"But...the thing I've learned from Mister Peabody is that...you can't change what happened. You can only learn from it. When I tried to change the past, I made a paradox that could have destroyed everything."

"And you fixed it," Peabody said softly.

Sherman shot him a grateful look before he continued.

"You...you can't change that Mister Peabody adopted me. That he's my dad. And always will be. But...you can learn from it. You can...you can see that Mister Peabody is my dad and I'm safe with him. He just fought Agamemnon for me!" He pointed at the still-kneeling king.

"Be that as it may…" Miss Grunion began.

But Sherman cut her off. "I don't know why you don't like my dad and I don't care. But...now you have something else to learn about us."

"Oh?" She gave him an arch look. "And what's that?"

"We do the right thing. Always." Sherman heaved in a deep, steadying breath. "Let us take you back home. And...if Mister Peabody has to go back to court for me...and if you take me away for a little while...I won't fight you this time."

Peabody stared at him. "Sherman…"

"I was wrong to fight you," Sherman said, never looking away from Miss Grunion. "You were wrong to try to take me, but I was wrong to fight you. I should have tried to convince you instead. And I should have trusted my dad. Because he'll never let anything happen to me."

Sherman gave a suddenly sideways, goofy smile.

"If he had to, I bet he'd even change the past for me."

"I would," Peabody whispered.

"So." Sherman drew himself up. "Come back with us. We'll fix this the right way. All of us. Even...even if it means I have to live someplace else for a while. Because Mister Peabody _will_ fix it in the end – you'll see. And then...if you want to come back and visit Mister Agamemnon, we can help you do that. I think...maybe you would understand my dad and me a little better if you had a friend like Mister Agamemnon."

Sherman put a hand out and Agamemnon gave him a friendly high-five.

"Please, Miss Grunion." Sherman put his other hand out and Peabody took it without hesitation. "Let's make this all okay for everyone. You just have to come back with us and let us show you what our family looks like." He gave a sheepish little smile. "And I'm sorry for yelling at you, too. That wasn't very nice of me."

"No, it wasn't." Miss Grunion looked at the three arrayed before her. For once, her expression was closed, unreadable. "All right. Take me back to New York. I have some paperwork to file."

"Will you be closing your investigation as agreed?" Peabody asked. "Otherwise, I will have a lawyer meet us before you take one step out of my home with my son."

"Oh, pipe down, puppy." She swept past him towards the door of the hall. "I'm done making trouble for you."

She stopped and looked over her shoulder, her gaze landing squarely on Agamemnon, though her words were addressed to Peabody.

"I do expect a ride back here, though."

Agamemnon threw up both hands and cheered. " _Yes!_ "

-==OOO==-

The return trip in the WABAC was stilted and silent. Peabody much preferred it to the possibility of Miss Grunion verbally berating him in front of Sherman, but that did not make it necessarily comfortable. She only exclaimed at him once, very angrily, upon being informed that they were returning her to New York almost a week after she had left, not right away. It was a decision that could not be helped now – Peabody had made it for Sherman's sake and he refused to feel guilty about it no matter how the woman raged at the lost days.

Peabody kept an eye on her, and on his son, but other than a few glances in each direction – calculating by the former, uncertain by the latter – they largely avoided one another.

As Peabody docked the WABAC in the hangar, he paused before opening the hatch.

"Miss Grunion, I believe we should be very clear. What are your intentions?"

She regarded him from above, expression locked in its customary frown.

"First, I must inform my employers that I am no longer missing," she said.

Sherman looked up at her, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Am I...coming with you?"

Peabody had to fight every protective instinct in his body to keep from growling.

Miss Grunion looked at him. "It's no longer for me to say."

Sherman blinked. "What?"

"I have decided to pass your case onto another agent," she said. "Now that I have personal dealings that involve Mister Peabody, I can no longer act as an unbiased observer. If someone is going to question this adoption, it cannot be me." Her expression softened a tiny amount, like a glacier melting. "Not unless I want to miss my trip back to see that soldier."

It wasn't an ideal solution, but it was one he could very much handle. Peabody felt relief wash through him. "Very well. That seems fair to me."

"I will also retract my report of an assault," she said. She looked down at Sherman. "And I apologize to you for using inappropriate force when I attempted to remove you."

Sherman nodded at her, eyes wide. "Thank you for apologizing," he said.

Peabody hit the release and the hatch opened at the rear of the WABAC.

"I will be in touch about the formal transfer of my investigation," Miss Grunion said, turning to go. "I can see myself out." She paused just outside the time machine and glanced back. "And thank you. For coming after me."

"You're welcome," Peabody said, more as reflex than anything else.

Sherman didn't seem in any great hurry to abandon his seat, so Peabody tapped into the building's sensors to track Miss Grunion and ensure that she actually did leave.

"Mister Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

"I think you were right."

Peabody noted Miss Grunion moving through the elevator to the public floors before he turned to face his son more fully. "About what, exactly?"

"That doing the right thing...would be really hard." Sherman was pulling on his fingers again.

"And yet you did it. You were exceptionally brave today, especially in offering to allow her to assume custody while we worked out the legalities." It made something get tight in Peabody's chest, the near-miss of almost losing his son. Even a single night away was unacceptable. "I am very, very proud of you."

"Well, I...I felt bad for fighting her. Mister Gandhi would have been sad for me if I tried to change her mind that way. I...I didn't want to make any more mistakes like I did before."

Peabody let out a breath that was equal parts pride and grief. Pride for the boy who was so noble and so dedicated to a peaceful path that he would willingly endure sorrow, and grief that Sherman was again blaming himself for being less than perfect.

"Mister Gandhi would have understood, Sherman," he said. "And as for mistakes…"

Sherman flinched.

Peabody made his voice as soft as he could. "Sherman. I don't ever, ever want you to believe that I made a mistake in adopting you. You could _never_ be an error. _Never_."

"But...but I…"

"No matter what you do or fail to do, no matter what choices you make or what circumstances act upon you, I am your father. You are not a mistake, Sherman. You are my _son_."

"I...I took Penny in the WABAC. I...I broke Mister da Vinci's flying machine. I left you in Troy. I broke the space-time continuum!"

Sherman was becoming hysterical. Peabody held up a paw.

"It is entirely possible for a person to make choices which are not optimal but still be a valued and worthy person, Sherman. While some of what you _did_ was unwise, _nothing_ you could ever do would make _you_ a mistake."

Sherman sucked in a breath that shook. "But...what if...what if I do something bad again? What if I make mistakes again? I could…" He trailed off and rubbed at the wetness growing in his eyes.

Peabody shook his head. "Sherman, I think there's something you haven't considered, as you so eloquently told Miss Grunion on Tuesday night."

"What's that?"

"As I stated at the time, we were standing in the center of the greatest collection of geniuses ever assembled. I could have called upon any of them for more help than mere speculation. But it was you, Sherman, not Leonardo, not Einstein, that I asked to accompany me in the crucial moment. _You_ are the person I chose to pilot the WABAC."

Sherman blinked – and gulped. "Yeah...I guess you did. But...why?"

Peabody smiled. "First, but certainly least importantly, while there were a plethora of individuals of great intellect and several who are expert pilots of various types of craft present, only you and myself have any degree of familiarity with the WABAC. It might have wasted precious time to have to explain the operation of everything when you were already well-versed."

Sherman's face fell. "Oh. Right."

"But my other two reasons are far more significant." Peabody waited until Sherman met his eyes, then rubbed a paw over the boy's head. "No one could guarantee that we would be successful. There was every chance that we could fail and the WABAC would be lost forever in the fabric of space-time, to say nothing of what would have happened to our own timeline. In the case of that, Sherman, I couldn't leave you behind."

A different kind of fear and doubt crept into Sherman's expression and Peabody had to suppress a shiver. He would have done anything necessary to repair the torn space-time continuum, of course, but it was all so risky and speculative. Peabody had estimated that the WABAC could survive almost any temporal instability, no matter the damage it took, but what world was left behind in the case of failure, and where and when the WABAC emerged into it, were not so certain.

Sherman gulped again and spontaneously threw his arms around Peabody, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.

Peabody held his son tightly. "I will never go somewhere unless I can get back to you, Sherman. And I will never permit you to be lost anywhere I cannot reach. That was my second reason for choosing you to accompany me. I thought...we would both rather face an entirely foreign time and space together than for you to remain here alone."

Sherman nodded and rubbed his face against Peabody's neck, leaving tiny spots of wetness behind.

Peabody permitted them both a few moments of closeness before he forced himself to regain his emotional control and eased back. Sherman clung for another shaky breath before he unwound his arms and faced his father once more.

"But the final reason I took you with me," Peabody said, "was that I _do_ trust you."

"You do?"

Peabody ached at the uncertainty in his son's voice, the doubt, but he was pleased to see Sherman starting to look at least a little hopeful again. "Yes. If I had to place the safety of history itself in a pair of hands not my own, yours are the only ones I would choose, Sherman."

"But...why?" Sherman's eyes became tear-filled once more. "I...I messed everything up!"

"Because more than anyone else I know, you would never give up until you had made things right." Peabody tightened his grip on Sherman's shaking shoulders. "Because you are brave and kind and very, very intelligent."

"But, Mister Peabody…"

Peabody gave a shake of his head, cutting off the boy's words. "I have faith in you, Sherman. And I had faith that we could not fail if we worked together. That, no matter the outcome, you would strive with every ounce of courage you possess until we succeeded. Why should I trust anyone else when I could have that sort of dedication by my side?"

Sherman pushed his glasses up with one hand while he wiped at his eyes and cheeks with the other. "Even...even though I…"

Peabody gathered his son back into his arms and held him, tucking the boy in close and shifting until Sherman's head was against his furry chest. From the very first instant Peabody had lifted Sherman from a cold, wet box, the boy had always, always been calmed and comforted by the sound of his heartbeat.

" _Because_ , Sherman," he said very quietly. "Never in spite of anything. _Because_ of all of it."

Sherman gave one hiccuping sob. Then he pushed his head against Peabody's chest as hard as he could. "I love you, Mister Peabody."

"I have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman." Peabody held him tightly. "I hope...you know that."

Sherman nodded into his fur. "I know. I...I always know."

Peabody stroked his boy's hair without letting him go. "You're a good boy, Sherman. You're _my_ good boy. And I hope together we can banish some of these doubts you carry about yourself. You have no reason to doubt or worry."

Sherman huffed a laugh. Then he pushed back far enough to meet his father's gaze. His brown eyes were watery and his face was reddened and blotchy from the repressed crying, but a shivering smile hovered at the edge of his mouth.

"Sure I do. But whatever happens, no matter what challenges I face…" He trailed off.

Peabody grinned and felt wetness in his own eyes. "No matter how far away I might seem…"

"You're with me." Sherman's smile brightened. "And you can fix everything. Even me."

"No, Sherman." Peabody stroked his head and did not care if his eyes were giving away more emotion than he ever let any human see – any human but this remarkable, wonderful boy who meant everything. "You are the only thing in the world that needs no fixing at all."

"Even you, Mister Peabody?"

Peabody felt his heart would burst. He could not imagine life without his son, without this bright spark of joy and constant source of inspiration, without the grounding, steady, selfless, unconditional love he had been gifted. Sherman was remarkable as a person, but he was a _gift_ as a son. Precious and irreplaceable and perfect.

And as he led his son out of the WABAC and off to their nightly routine before bed, Peabody knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had needed Sherman at least as badly as that helpless baby in a box had ever needed him. That he would not be the dog he was without Sherman in his life – and in his heart.

He had intended to give Sherman a home, as he had never been given one. Peabody could never have expected Sherman to give one back, and so much more that Peabody had so desperately needed without ever knowing it.

"Especially me, Sherman. Especially me."


End file.
